


Reckless

by MajaLi



Category: Hockey RPF
Genre: Happy Ending, Implied/Referenced Underage Sex, M/M, Mindless Fluff, Underage Kissing, casual homophobia
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-26
Updated: 2016-07-26
Packaged: 2018-07-27 00:19:55
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,077
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7596031
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MajaLi/pseuds/MajaLi
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which Patrick and Jonny meet as dumb teenagers in the wilds of Washington state, courtesy of T.J. Oshie and a stupid prank, and proceed to act like, well, dumb teenagers.</p><p>Old-fashioned songfic loosely based on the lyrics to Aaron Watson's <i>Reckless</i></p>
            </blockquote>





	Reckless

**Author's Note:**

> I started this fic months and months ago and it never would have seen the light of day without oodles and oodles of support from many amazing people, including:  
> -Celly1995, the best and fastest beta on earth  
> -thundersquall for her inexhaustible cheerleading and optimism  
> -svmadelyn, who organized and launched the Very Competitive challenge that kicked my ass into finishing  
> -Team Awesome and the Squad (you know who you are!)

**I still think about us and the rush that we felt**  
**With the rag-top down and the radio blasting**  
**You were riding shotgun in nothing but a bikini and a seatbelt**  
**Looking better than the law should have been allowing**

The swimming hole is just as huge and refreshing as TJ promised it would be. Jonny whoops as he surfaces from his dive, feeling properly cooled off for the first time in the two weeks since he trekked down to Minnesota to visit his old teammate, only to find a historic heatwave waiting as soon as he crossed the American border.  He’s about to scramble back onto the floating dock, eager for one last plunge into the sun-warmed water before they head home, when a strangled noise from TJ catches his ear. He turns to find his friend standing on the dock, staring across to the shallow end of the hole at some blonde girl, standing with her hands on her hips on the sanded down planks form a crude walkway to the water.  She doesn’t look like much; her hair is cut into short ringlets, her shoulders broad, chest flat under her blue bikini top.  Even from this distance Jonny can see the dark golden hair on her arms and legs, stark against thick, pale thighs, and…

 "Holy _crap_ , is that a dude?!" Jonny swears, smacking at TJ’s calf.

 "Shh!" TJ kicks at him. "Don't be rude! Why do you have to be so loud?"

 Bikini-dude waves at them as he rounds the edge of the swimming hole, both arms above his head like he thinks there's any chance they could miss him.

 "Hey!" he calls. "Are you - uh, are you guys headed back to town?" Closer up, Jonny can see his nipples perking up under the bikini top; which should not be that big of a deal, but somehow seeing the hint of them through the thin fabric is a hundred times more obscene than if he were just wandering around shirtless like a normal dude.

 "Just about, yeah." TJ answers for both of them, because Jonny's tongue is glued to the roof of his mouth.

 "Is there any chance I could get a ride with you…?" He chews on his lip, clearly embarrassed to ask. "Only, it's a three mile walk and my sisters...kind of stole the rest of my clothes. And my trunks."

 Jonny glances at TJ, who's smirking at him like he knows exactly what's been running through Jonny's head - which, okay, he probably does, but he doesn't have to rub it in, damn it.

 "Sure," Jonny sighs, rubbing at the back of his head, desperately looking anywhere but at the junk in question. "Sure, we can give you a ride back to town."

TJ, because he 's a goddamn troll, insists that _he'll take the back seat, really, he prefers it, he gets carsick otherwise_ , while Jonny stands next to the driver's side door and glares daggers into the side of his head. They fail to have the intended effect, though, with the result that Jonny ends up with bikini-dude - who introduces himself as "Patrick, or Pat, but Patrick's fine" - sprawled in the front passenger seat beside him, one long leg cocked with his knee propped on the dashboard.

"I seriously can't thank you guys enough," he says, hair whipping in the wind as he twists around to include TJ even though it's _Jonny_ driving the convertible. Because it's _his convertible_.

"Don't mention it." TJ's grin is blinding even in the rearview mirror. "Although, if you want to pay us back…"

"If I want to pay you back…?" Patrick glances at Jonny, that bottom lip between his teeth again.

"Well, there's this bonfire down by the river tomorrow night. I can't go, I have a familly thing, so Jonny needs someone to take him or he'll bail at the last minute and spend the whole night, you know, sulking in his room like a five year old and I'll never hear the end of it."

Patrick cracks up at that, curling into himself as he giggles and snickers.

"Sure," he says, peeking up through his eyelashes, mimicking Jonny from earlier in a way that makes TJ snort in amusement. "Sure, I think I can show Jonny here a good time."

 

 **We’d drive on down to the river burning up those hot summer nights**  
**Laughing at the cowboys getting crazy and picking fights**  
**It wasn’t funny when that deputy caught you and me steaming up those windows**  
**And how your daddy never found out about us, honey, heaven only knows**

 Jonny picks Patrick up at nine, the cover on TJ's convertible pulled up to ward off any mosquitos that might think of having a snack. He wasn't expecting another bikini - of course he wasn't - but he's still having a hell of a time with Patrick's leather flip-flops, cargo shorts, and a short-sleeved, blue plaid button down, left open in the cool night breeze. He's got his arm raised to the window, fingers hanging out the top, head tipped toward Jonny as he chats about his family, and how he got revenge on his sisters.

Jonny can see his nipples again, is really the problem here. It makes driving difficult.

It doesn't help that Patrick's out of the car like a shot as soon as they reach the riverbank, slipping out the side door while Jonny's still idling in park. By the time Jonny's locked the car, he's back, two girls about their age in tow - not sisters, Jonny doesn't think, but they might as well be, with their long, straight, dark hair and light eyes and crop tops.  Patrick introduces them as Jennie and Samantha; they are, apparently, here alone, just like Jonny and Patrick, and isn't that such a coincidence?

After two illicit beers, though, lukewarm and turning to fizz in Jonny's mouth, Jennie and Samantha don't seem so bad. They're here, aren't they, sitting on a log kitty-corner to Jonny and Patrick's? And they're nice, and chatty, and despite that Patrick is still warm under Jonny's arm, warmer than the bonfire, his curls brushing the side of Jonny's neck and chin as he giggles at something Jennie whispers in his ear.

"Jesus Christ, Kane." Jonny doesn't know what it is about the voice that makes the hairs on the back of his neck stand up, but he knows he doesn't like the way Patrick stiffens, hand tightening so much around his beer can that his fingers leave little dents in the aluminum.

"I mean," the voice continues, and now it has an owner, some guy Jonny doesn't recognize, looming up between them and the fire, "everyone knows you're kind of a fag, but isn't dragging the girls into it pushing it even for you?"

Jonny wishes he could explain what happens next, but the truth of it comes down to that he knows that tone of voice, has heard it only one place before, and that's on a hockey rink right before a line brawl breaks out. And there's only one thing you can do if you're on the ice for a line brawl.

Protect your man.

So that's how Jonny gets blood on his knuckles, and a very angry group of guys - one of them with a bloody, possibly broken nose - on his heels, and Patrick's hand clamped around his wrist, dragging him back through the short grass and scrub toward where the car is parked.  Patrick all but flings Jonny into the passenger seat and slides over the hood and around to the driver's side, scrabbling in Jonny's pocket for the keys as soon as he's seated and gunning the engine. They tear up the shallow bank at a speed that's got Jonny howling for Patrick to turn on the brights, racing onto the main road for maybe half a mile before Patrick swings sharply onto a little dirt track and jerks the car to a juddering halt.

"Where are we - "

" _Shhhh!_ "

Patrick kills the engine and clamps a hand over Jonny's mouth, twisting around to peer out the rear window into the darkness of the road. After a quiet moment, they hear the roar of engines, and then two cars go zipping past, hot on the heels of - well, of no one, now, since Patrick has apparently watched more than his share of gangster movies.

They breathe there in the silence for a minute, staring at each other, until Patrick takes his hand off Jonny's mouth, only to curl it around the back of his head.

"You," he whispers, "are an absolute _crazy person_."

Then he crashes their mouths together and Jonny - Jonny is fine with that, actually, he's _great_ with that, because Patrick's lips are incredibly soft, and he's making these sweet little panting noises that make Jonny want to scramble over the center console and chase them with his tongue, and there really is no reason on earth why he can't do exactly that. His foot hits a lever on the way, though, with the result that he and Patrick end up half-sprawled in the back seat, Jonny's fingers tangled in the thick gold chain around Patrick's neck. Patrick doesn't seem to mind, just bites at Jonny's lower lip and shoves both hands down the back of his shorts.

They don't make it home that night. Or most any other night, it turns out, for as long as Jonny is in town.

 

 **I looked into your eyes and I promised you forever**  
**I believed it with all my heart, I just didn’t know any better**  
**Getting over you took years, and despite those tears I cried**  
**I’d do it all over again, all for the thrill of the ride**

Jonny intends to ask for Patrick's phone number they day they leave. He does, he _does_ , and the only reason he didn't earlier is that every time he thought about leaving Patrick his stomach twisted up into knots that choked the breath out of his lungs worse than bag skates. But when he knocks on the battered screen door, it's answered by a woman he's pretty sure his Patrick's mom, who tells him in apologetic but firm tones that Patrick is out today, and no, she doesn't know when he'll be back, but it probably won't be until late, and when Jonny starts to ask for their home phone number the look in her eyes dries up the words in his throat, and TJ's mom is hanging out the window of the convertible, not saying anything but starting to look more than a little long-suffering, and Jonny can't, Jonny _can't_ \- so he goes.

He's always going to be grateful to TJ, for offering up the tissues, and then his shoulder, and never saying a word.

 

 **We hit the corners going ninety, loving blindly, falling head over heels over you**  
**Every feeling that we felt was a feeling that felt brand new**  
**And you looked just like an angel, that cross on your necklace**  
**You were young, I was wild, we were reckless**

It feels like a dream when Jonny starts hearing the buzz about a tiny skill guy playing for London who's putting up crazy numbers; when analysts start speculating that an American player might be drafted first overall for the second year in a row; when _Dale Tallon_ calls him up, and takes him out for lunch, and asks him who the Hawks should pick if they win the lottery even though he hasn't played a single NHL game yet.

It feels like a dream when he sees Patrick drag the Hawks sweater over his head with a blinding grin; when it's Patrick's assist, on Jonny's first NHL goal on his first shot in their first game together; when they drag their team, _their team_ , into the playoffs by the skin of their teeth, only to get bounced in the first round and come back stronger than ever.

It feels like a dream when he hoists the Cup over his head with a roar; when Patrick crashes into him, whooping and laughing; when he leans up and catches Jonny's mouth with his, knowing Jonny is trapped by thirty-five pounds of silver and nickel, as the flashbulbs and camera phones spark to life around them.

It doesn't feel like a dream when he sees the headline the next morning, bold white text stamped on top of the crowd above their heads:

 

**Young wild and reckless**


End file.
